Of course I love you
by ThisBookBelongsTo
Summary: Sherlock hadn't realised just how much his 'death' was affecting Mycroft. 26 chronological Holmescest drabbles. Rating subject to change. Happy ending, I promise!
1. Chapter 1

**Word Prompt: Abject**

Mycroft hovered by the coffin, uncertain for the first time in thirty years. What should he say? That he loved his little brother, in spite of his faults? The tears threatening to spill down his frost-reddened cheeks made that obvious enough. Mycroft was no machine; his brother was dead, and it was his fault. He had broken his promise. 'I will always look out for you.' The words of a boy just thirteen years old, helping his brother up as the others looked on and laughed. Laughed at the freaks. Mycroft discreetly stifled a sob in his bespoke leather glove.


	2. Chapter 2

**Word Prompt: Bewildered**

Sherlock peered out from his hiding place behind the church. He watched as his brother stepped forward to cast the first handful of dirt into his grave. He noticed the tension in Mycroft's shoulders and wished they had chosen a warmer day for the funeral. It made Sherlock worry. A sudden, suppressed tremor ran through his brother's wool-swaddled frame, and Sherlock fought the urge to wrap him in his arms. To protect him, after so many years of resentment. A sudden glint of light caught Sherlock's eye, reflected from… No. It couldn't be. A glittering tear, running down Mycroft's cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

**Word Prompt: Callous**

He knew what they were saying about him behind his back. He heard every whispered remark, noticed all those conversations that were swiftly curtailed when he approached. Mycroft Holmes, the man who hadn't even mourned the suicide of his only brother. He was a machine, they decided, just like Sherlock. A tin man without a heart. Mycroft ignored them. There was no way that they could understand just how deeply his pain ran. How could he expect it of them, of the goldfish, to realise that if he allowed himself even a single second of grief, it would overwhelm him?


	4. Chapter 4

**Word Prompt: Desperation**

Mycroft had wept at his graveside. He had fought to keep back the hysteria as he gave his speech. He had let the tears cascade down his cheeks, not caring who saw or what they thought of him. Later that day, he had returned, carrying a bunch of white roses. Sherlock read again the little message tag that had been attached and felt his heart clench. Two sets of tears had smudged the black ink, but he knew their message by heart. _I will always look out for you. _Sherlock pressed the card to his lips and tried to understand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Word Prompt: Eternity**

Yes, he was drunk. For the first time in his life, Mycroft was stupendously drunk. What was the phrase – _drinking to forget_? He'd never understood it before, but now it made perfect sense. The bottom of the bottle would hold all the answers. Especially if that bottle contained cheap, 100%-proof vodka. Mycroft grimaced as he felt the last of the clear liquid burning down his throat, forcing himself not to cough. It would do no good to let himself vomit up all his hard work. Surveying the empty bottles around him, Mycroft felt himself smile. He hadn't smiled since Sherlock…


	6. Chapter 6

**Prompt Word: Frantic**

Sherlock threw himself through the window, heedless of the shards of nineteenth-century glass tearing at his skin. He hit the floor and crawled across the room, grabbing at his brother's jacket in desperation. "Mycroft!" he screamed, taking in at once the sea of bottles, the disorder of the room, the mild head wound where his brother had fallen. A trembling hand alighted on his brother's neck, waiting… Waiting… Sherlock snarled something incoherent. Mycroft's pulse remained invisible. For a moment, Sherlock could not move. Then his fists flew and a frantic assault fell upon Mycroft's still form. "Please, Mycroft, don't be…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Prompt Word: Gone**

Sherlock dropped in exhaustion onto his brother's chest. Sobs racked his thin body, and his tears fell unchecked as the hysteria slowly waned. He clung to his brother in hopeless need, praying to all the gods he had never believed in to grant him just one miracle. "Don't be dead," he hiccoughed. "For me. Just… don't be dead." Sherlock rose slowly, lifting Mycroft with him. For all his gibes, his brother felt frighteningly light in his arms. Had so much changed in the two weeks since his funeral? Sherlock lifted his brother's shirt to trace his ribs. Then Mycroft moved.


	8. Chapter 8

**Prompt Word: Help**

Somehow Sherlock managed to get them both to the sofa before his legs gave way. He cradled his brother in his lap, rubbing his back as he emptied his stomach of the toxic alcohol. Eventually Mycroft stopped vomiting long enough for his brother to force some water past his lips. Most of it ended up down his front, but it didn't matter. Sherlock remembered how his brother had cared for him after countless nights of near-fatal overdose and retched. Was this what he had forced his brother to feel? He remembered Mycroft's desperate words: _'Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.'_


	9. Chapter 9

**Prompt Word: Impossible**

"Sherlock!" Mycroft's eyes flew open from the nightmare, only to close against the painfully bright light filtering through the window across the room. He considered drawing the curtains, but could he make it across the room? Before he could move, a figure burst into his line of vision, pressing a gentle hand to his forehead. Lowering his eyelids, Mycroft replayed in his mind that coffin being lowered slowly into an open grave. He watched as his brother disappeared forever beneath the sod. He blinked. Dark curls fussed about his comfort with tantalising familiarity. But it was impossible; Sherlock was dead...


	10. Chapter 10

**Prompt Word: Jaded**

"I saw you," Sherlock whispered hoarsely. "At the funeral, I saw you… crying." He looked at his brother now, cramps forcing him into a hunched mass of skin and bones as his body tried to eject the contents of an empty stomach. His broad shoulders shook with tension, and when he raised his head Sherlock stared at red cheeks that shone with sweat and tears. His brother… "For me," he murmured, voice cracking under the weight of his realisation. This was his fault. Sherlock had done this to his brother. He had broken the only man he had ever loved.


	11. Chapter 11

**Prompt Word: Knowledge**

Mycroft looked like his entire world had shattered around him. Meeting his brother's concerned gaze, he drew back his cracked and bloody lips into an approximation of a smile. It fell a moment later, as he took in Sherlock's expression. He looked lost, Mycroft thought. That made two of them then. "You were dead," he managed, throat burning with every syllable. As if reading his thoughts, Sherlock's elegant hand brought a glass of water to his mouth and helped him to drink. "I'm sorry," Sherlock said simply. There was nothing else he could say that wouldn't make things even worse.


	12. Chapter 12

**Prompt Word: Listening**

Raising one trembling hand to his brother's chest, Mycroft felt the steady thump of Sherlock's heart beneath his fingers. His brother's arms drew around his shoulders, drawing him closer until his head rested on that same ruined shirt. Letting his arm drop, Mycroft held his breath and listened. Listened to the unmistakeable sound of life. He sighed, allowing himself to relax completely into the feel of his brother's heartbeat against the fold of his ear, the heat emanating from his chest warming Mycroft's cheek to a rosy pink hue. "Thank you," he breathed hesitantly. Sherlock's response sounded confused. "For what?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Prompt Word: Mercy**

"For coming back for me," his brother replied, too tired to keep up the usual layers of subterfuge that lay between them. Sherlock was not dead. Mycroft decided there and then that he couldn't push him away again. Not after this. "I need you, Sherlock," he admitted. Sherlock felt his chest tighten with some unlabelled emotion at his older brother's words, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. "I know," he replied. Perhaps it was time, he decided, for truth on all sides. "I know because that's why I came back. Because I… Mycroft, I…"


	14. Chapter 14

**Prompt Word: Nothing**

Mycroft sat up painfully, leaning heavily on his brother for support. He looked deep into Sherlock's earnest gaze, reading all his brother's emotions in those tumultuous eyes. Portals to the soul indeed. Sherlock took a steadying breath, letting it out in a rush of words desperate to be spoken. "When I saw you collapse, and then you weren't breathing, and I thought you were dead… It was my fault, I thought I had killed you. I wanted to save you, but I ended up hurting you far worse than Moriarty would have and I'm sorry, so, so sorry for that."


	15. Chapter 15

**Prompt Word: Open**

There was more, Mycroft could feel it, a long-kept secret festering away deep below the surface, at last rising out into the open. His brother opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound seemed to come. Silently Mycroft waited. Then Sherlock leaned in, his body taut with fear, and pressed soft dry lips to his brother's own. Mycroft remained motionless for a moment longer before gently easing into the kiss, comforting his brother as saltwater tears ran down his alabaster cheeks, washing away the blood and acid, and just a little of those decades of pain and frustration.


	16. Chapter 16

**Prompt Word: Pretty**

Air flooded their lungs as they pulled apart. Chest heaving, ebony curls awry, cheeks flushed red, pupils blown wide... Mycroft decided his little brother was the most beautiful creature on earth. "Perfect," he whispered, still out of breath from their first kiss. Their first kiss. The very words sent tingles down his spine. "Our first kiss," he thought aloud. They weren't the three words that wanted to fall from his tongue, but Mycroft didn't want to frighten Sherlock with the strength of his emotions. Instead he leaned in and wrapped his arms tightly around his brother. "Never leave me again..."


End file.
